The Ten Songs That Broke Him
by idioticonion
Summary: A different take on how Barney might have dealt with his emerging feelings for Robin. AU - Set after Season 4 Do I Know You
1. Chapter 1

_1. "You 'aint seen nothing yet" Bachman Turner Overdrive_

He left a bruise on her upper arm where he'd slammed her against the wall and kissed her, feeding on her mouth as if starving. His teeth had found her collarbone, jarring her clumsily and at the time it hadn't felt like force.

Robin massaged the bruise and frowned.

The lights in the studio made her eyes hurt. She stared impassively into the camera lens, her tone remaining surprisingly neutral as she read that night's ridiculous new bulletin.

Was he watching? Had he noticed that unconscious gesture as her thumb skimmed the material of her blouse?

Her lips shaped each word but they felt bruised and puffy. The hurried shower she'd grabbed hadn't been enough to wash his lingering scent from her body. Twenty showers wouldn't be enough.

Robin asked herself - "Why?"

It was downright unprofessional. She'd only been ready at the desk with seconds to spare.

An afternoon delight? With Barney? Really? What was she, a walking cliché?

But sure enough, that afternoon Barney had bought her a scotch and had sat there and _listened_ and when he'd flirted with her, she'd been too brittle to take it.

"Can it, loser," She'd snapped at him. "I've ridden that train, remember?"

He'd put up his hands defensively, grinning that knowing grin. "You think so? You really think so? Oh, Scherbatsky… Oh, Robin." He chuckled and shook his head.

It had made her more angry. And he was sitting there, smelling of spice and she wanted to reach out and throttle him with his own silk tie.

"Yes, Barney. I've had sex with you."

Barney laughed at her. "That was comfort sex. That wasn't _sex_ sex!"

Robin shook her head, mystified. "What he hell is _sex_ sex?" She regretted asking almost the moment that the words came out of her mouth, because she saw him affect that posture and that tone of voice and look down his nose at her.

"_Sex_ sex, isn't about comfort. It's rough... and it's passion... and it's about life and death and not caring if you are one or both. _Sex_ sex is hard enough to leave a bruise."

It annoyed Robin that he might have hurt her deliberately.

It annoyed Robin that he'd made her come so hard!

The last bulletin was a fluff piece. It was the one time of an evening when she could allow the tinge of irony to colour her words. But Robin told the story like she was reporting on a car crash.

_2. "Damn, I wish I was your lover" Sophie B Hawkins_

He tried to stop himself looking at her; no, staring at her would be more appropriate. If he didn't check himself, he would find himself staring.

So he watched Ted and Marshall spar and he kept his mouth shut and he sipped his scotch and Barney Stinson wondered if he'd blown it with Robin Scherbatsky.

He'd never been very good at self control but this was ridiculous.

Something primal had taken over. He wouldn't have given a damn if they'd been in the middle of the street. He'd never been so desperate before, so desperate for _contact_; to feel her flesh pressed against him, under him. He'd gone berserk. He'd wanted to tear her apart with his bare hands.

It scared him to think what might have happened if she'd had said no. He'd never, ever been like this with a woman before.

It took every ounce of strength he had not to squeeze so hard on his tumbler that it shattered in his hand. He wanted to smash the glass into the table so instead he willed his fingers to relax, one by one.

He tried, desperately, not to look at her.

She was the exact opposite of subdued. She laughed a little too hard, her voice was a little too rough (too Canadian) to be comfortable. The others had started to notice. Lily had surreptiousy suggested they'd all "had enough".

Shouldn't she be going to work?

He held the words in, jaw clenched with the physical effort. Every second was torture but somehow he couldn't pull away.

He'd made love to Robin. Again. Shouldn't that make him happy?

Why did he feel sick inside?

Because it wasn't love? Because it was practically rape? Did it make it okay that she'd pretty-much raped him back?

The fingers of his left hand twitched (the hand not holding the scotch), itching to rub the bite mark on his neck, where his collar pressed tight against this throat.

It wasn't love.

Oh god, he wished it was.

_3. "Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap" ACDC_

"You ready for a rematch, Stinson?" She purred in his ear. She was a little wasted, her skin stretched too tight over her temples. Her extremities felt numb.

She saw him stiffen and Robin took a kind of masochistic pleasure in how easy it was to manipulate him. He stared straight ahead. Earlier, in front of the others, he'd not said a word to her. He'd not even looked at her.

Barney had deliberately chosen not to sit next to her. She'd seen him hesitate.

But there was this throbbing inside her and it was so late and she was bone tired and he was so _easy_.

"Robin…" He rumbled. She felt the word more than heard it, the vibrations carrying through the skin of her lips as they brushed the stubble of his cheek.

"No strings attached," She whispered, grinning, letting her tongue brush lightly across his ear.

He grabbed her wrist and pushed her back against the bar. His eyes glittered dangerously.

God, it really turned her on.

Barney Stinson had a monster locked inside him. Who knew?

He slapped some money on to the bar, not even looking at it, never breaking eye contact with her and then he dragged her into a cab.

They went to his apartment. She didn't notice the cab had stopped. Every aggressive kiss seemed to suck all the air out of her.

It was just sex.

This time, she fought him for supremacy. She managed to get on top, albeit briefly. They tumbled off his leather sofa on to the floor. It was hard and uncomfortable and there would be more bruises but he held her down and she _needed_ this.

In the moment of clarity, as the pleasure deepened so hard, so fast that she screamed wordlessly, Robin wondered if she'd ever been fucked like this.

He didn't hold back. She wondered if he was like this with everyone else?

There was no awkward morning after, no difficult awakening, because she didn't stay. Sex with Barney was simple, like a handshake. It was done and you walked away, kind-of satisfied.

_4. "Laughter in the rain" Neil Sedaka _

If things were so normal between them, then it wouldn't be weird to call her, right?

"Scherbatsky," He said gruffly. "Need your help, bro. Media issue at work. You got any contacts that could sniff something out for me? There's a 50-year-old bottle of Macallan in it for you."

He told himself that she was the only person he knew well enough in the television industry - the only person he could trust.

That was ridiculous, of course.

He told himself he wasn't making excuses to spend time with her which didn't involve having messy, desperately intense sex that left him gutted like a fish on a barbeque.

"Barney, is this something illegal?" She asked him. Her voice sounded light and normal. A little piece of him that had been wound up tighter than piano wire for the last two weeks relaxed.

"Robin, if it was, do you really think I'd tell you?" He replied.

"Hey, what do I care? Sounds like a good deal. So what do you need?"

He met up with her an hour later, outside the studio. The info she gave him was surprisingly helpful and he hated himself for underestimating her. It seemed that every step he took she found a way to wrong-foot him until he was stumbling around in un-awesome.

They took a walk while she smoked a cigarette, chatting amiably enough about Marshall and Lily and Ted's latest lame schemes - easing back into playful bitching far more quickly than he'd dared hope. Perhaps the sex didn't matter? Perhaps the darkness that had consumed them had lifted? Barney found himself relaxing, his movements becoming less strung-out, less jerking. Soon they were actually strolling, chatting, laughing.

It began to rain; lightly at first but then more persistently. She'd come out without a coat as so he'd been a gentleman and given her his jacket at the point when they'd decided to turn back and head for the studio. In minutes they were both drenched through and giggling hysterically and he didn't even think about getting a cab, he just took her hand and they ran for the nearest store.

He bought her a pack of cigarettes and she lit one, shivering. This got them thrown out so they ducked under the scant shelter of a tree. He was grinning like an idiot. The world contracted around them and he had no idea of past or future but only of now and how it had felt to take her hand and just run with joyous, wild abandon.

Ten minutes later, he'd had the urge to kiss her on the cheek as he'd left her outside the Metro One news station building.

"Robin," He said, because it felt right. "I love you."

Every reaction was predictable, he realised: Mild shock, disbelief and then disgust. Her emotions were so open sometimes, so painfully easy to read.

She shook her head, frowning at him, as if he'd just irritated her. She didn't even give him the luxury of looking as if she cared that deeply about what he'd just said.

"Don't be stupid, Barney." She replied and rolled her eyes.

"No, Robin- I'm not," He stuttered. "I'm serious. I'm in love with you." He repeated, earnestly.

Her lip curled slightly, as if she'd stepped in something unpleasant.

He stood there, soaking wet and exposed, unable to close himself off from her. All those defences he'd spent years building up and he hadn't been able to stop himself repeating the exact same mistake all over again.

Everyone always thought that Barney Stinson didn't care. Trouble is, he cared too much. He always had. It was the single biggest motivator behind everything he did.

But she'd never see that.

"Barney, I can't deal with this," She said, suddenly hostile, flapping her hands at him like he was an annoying insect buzzing around her.

She turned around and left him there, gaping in the rain, everything hurting twice as hard as it ever had with Shannon. Because Shannon was just some silly girl, some innocent crush that he'd had because he didn't know better.

Barney knew better; knew Robin deserved his love. He'd always suspected that he didn't deserve hers.


	2. Chapter 2

_5. "You give love a bad name" Bon Jovi_

At first she'd though it was kind of funny; the way he'd avoid her gaze and deliberately ignore her. She'd listen to him talk so animatedly and wonder if he was always this over-the-top or if he'd taken it up a notch.

At first she'd tried to convince herself that Barney had been joking. It was the sort of thing he'd do - wasn't it? They'd always played games with each other. But it had always been good natured and she'd always known his boundaries. She'd always trusted him.

Nope, that wasn't true.

Robin caught herself watching Barney Stinson talking, his grin so sharp and hard-edged that she was surprised he didn't cut himself. She'd glimpsed what was beneath the surface and she'd liked it. A big, flashing neon sign of wrong was there, trying to get her attention, but still she'd liked it.

Well, she hadn't particularly liked the bruises, but she'd gone back to him hadn't she? The rematch?

She'd used to be able to read him so easily.

From the other side of the table, he seemed so remote, so distant. So many, many times she'd sat beside him, jammed close so that she could feel the soft material of his suit brushing against her arm, making the fine hairs stand on edge. She'd wriggle closer, her hip pressing against his, perhaps allowing her knee to knock into his. This was the game they played. It was harmless.

Robin tried to tell herself that he was just messing with her head.

When Ted took over the conversation, Robin took a gulp of wine. Beneath the table, she lifted her foot out of her shoe and raised it slightly so that she could run it down Barney's leg, her toe pressing gently against his calf muscle.

He didn't exactly flinch, but she could see his jaw working. She smiled at him, hopefully, and when he met her gaze she couldn't help but recoil.

His eyes were full of hate.

_6. "Senses working overtime" XTC_

Why wouldn't she leave him alone?

Barney had escaped to the bar in order to get away from her and drown himself in gin. He couldn't face scotch. It was too deeply connected to her, and happier times.

She stood behind him and touched his elbow. He didn't have to turn around to know it was her. He knew her perfume, the sound of her breathing, even the way the air changed when she was near him. He knew every nuance of her face; could predict exactly what expression she'd be wearing right then, the little crease between those bright, alert eyes as she frowned at him, disapprovingly. He felt his shoulders tighten.

How long could he keep doing this before he snapped?

"Come on, Barney, don't sulk," She said and laughed nervously.

No "I'm sorry". No "I can see you're hurting". No "I love you too".

Why had he ever expected her to care? He'd seen what she'd done to Ted. Why did he think it would be different with him?

He loved her so much that he hated her. He hated her so much that he vibrated with it.

"Leave me alone," He managed, the words coming out as a mumble. His control was slipping.

"This is so stupid!" She replied, laughing. "You _love_ me?"

He felt his cheeks redden. Was she on a specific mission to humiliate him?

"Robin. Go away." He breathed, his tone low; dangerous.

"Barney, sex isn't love. You of all people should know that!"

He turned towards her, eyes pricking with unwanted tears. "Go. Away."

She half-grinned, oblivious, not knowing or not caring how much she was killing him and, oh god, he wanted her. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and hold her and never, ever let her leave him. Why couldn't she see? Why couldn't she read him?

She moved towards him, one hand on his hip, pinching him so that he let out a choked half-sob. It loosened something inside of him.

"Have I hurt your feelings?" She said, jokingly. It was like a physical blow. Still reeling, he had no more defences as her hand slid up his side, under his suit-jacket, fingers working through the cotton of his shirt and kneading the muscle beneath. He let out a low growl as she pressed her body against him, her breath warm on his neck.

It felt like every nerve was exposed and she was playing him so expertly that he had absolutely no volition. He wanted so much to push her away.

But self-control had never been his strong point.

_7. "Just what I needed" The Cars_

Okay, so he was acting really weird in the cab. Well, a bit _more_ weird, perhaps, than she was actually expecting. But the way he'd kissed her, silencing her, grabbing her wrists and pushing them gently behind her back - oh _Jesus_, it shouldn't feel that good.

Robin was actually grinning when they got his apartment. Whatever weirdness was going on in Barney's head, she was possibly in for the best lay yet. Afterwards, they probably really needed to talk but right then she could tell he was as eager as she was.

However, once inside his apartment, he let her go, and there was something in his eyes so lost and hopeless that she was sure he'd changed his mind. Even though she could feel him getting hard as she pressed her body against him, there was a second when she wondered if she'd misjudged him.

But then he kissed her again, both hands cupping her face, kissed her so deeply and tenderly, that the memory of him standing outside her work in the pouring rain, telling her he loved her, that memory came back to her in startling, vivid clarity.

Robin felt wildly exposed, dizzy, as if she were standing on a precipice about to jump. It was deep and dark and scary and she didn't want anything to do with it. She tensed up.

He must have felt it because the kiss got rougher, more demanding - a kiss taken, not asked for.

Yeah, _this_ was what she needed.

_8. "Bliss" Muse_

Everything was fractured.

His brain seemed to spark and fizzle, his thoughts veering wildly inside his head.

He was dimly aware of her, solid, struggling against him.

Oh so sweet…

She had to _stay_. She had to _see_.

She tasted so sweet…

Robin, oh god, don't move. She tried to pull away and his hands lost their grip on her face, fingers scrabbling for her neck to stop her, prevent her-

She was struggling, gasping; it all sounded wrong and felt wrong but he hung on for dear life and _squeezed_. The rhythm of his heartbeat sounded very loud, like he was under water, each breath too heavy and reverberating like a dirty phone call on an old telephone line.

Dimly, he felt pain in his arm. Her fingernails had pierced his skin.

His fingers tightened, claw-like and desperate. She couldn't _leave_. She had to _see_.

He started to speak - tear-filled, mumbled words that made no sense but were pleas, tumbling from his lips even as he could taste hot salt which he could not swallow.

She was limp in his arms and still he squeezed.

_9. "The Jub-Jub bird" The Bluetones_

He awoke to find her body cold beside him.

Jerking away from her, as if stung, Barney blinked until the outline of her swam into focus. He cradled his splitting head and breathed jerkily although there were no more tears inside him. The memory nudged him until he couldn't ignore it.

She was naked. He reached out as if to check that she was real.

He couldn't say "What have I done?" He couldn't express any kind of false or misplaced guilt.

Robin's brown hair lay in soft, tangled swirls across the pillow. Her eyes were wide open and beautifully blank. With the curtains drawn, he could only dimly see the livid marks around her neck.

She wasn't going anywhere.

He let out a chuckle, tingled with hysteria.

Even though his head hurt and all he wanted to do was empty a bottle of scotch down his throat, Barney lay back down beside her and drew her lifeless body into his arms, warming her flesh with his own and wrapping the blanket tightly around both of them.

The horror of it all hovered at the very edges of his consciousness but could not intrude into the here and now.

Later, he would have to take responsibility for what he'd done. Right now, he would close his eyes and try and memorise every swell and dip, every texture, every taste, oh god…

He squeezed his eyes shut.

"Oh god…" He repeated, out loud.

_10. "Satan rejected my soul" Morrissey_

There were red and blue lights and when they dragged him out of bed it felt like he was just meat and bones with nothing inside.

Later, at the police station, the reality of the situation began to creep in.

Barney used his one phone call to ring Marshall.

When he did talk, he couldn't seem to make any sense. How could you make sense of something so senseless?

"I don't know why I did it!" He offered, desperately. No, he never tried to deny it, not with Marshall staring at him in horror. "I'm sorry," He repeated over and over until the word lost any meaning.

"Barney, why?" Marshall asked him, his voice cracking. Six foot four and he was shaking - a man-mountain reduced to blubber by this - by him and one, stupid moment.

No, that wasn't right. There had never been one moment. There had been a million moments in his life that all lined up to this one, inevitable conclusion.

Dashing the tears from his eyes, Barney shook his head helplessly. The world tilted, like a nightmare but far more horrific, more real.

"I strangled my best friend," He said, making a noise that wasn't a laugh, but the pure music of madness. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…" He wrapped his arms tightly around his chest, his hands grabbing his shoulders like a bizarre parody of a straight-jacket. He kept saying the words over and over; over and over until Marshall walked around the table and sat next to him.

"I'm sorry."

And then there was no pain. Marshall receded. The world receded.

Marshall said something else but Barney didn't even blink; didn't even hear him.

With Robin gone there was nothing left. Barney Stinson let the world go.


End file.
